EP: Take Two
by Lunar Maelstrom
Summary: Continuation of The Eight Powers. Ch 9: "Economy revolved around supply and demand. Where there was a demand, eventually you would find some smart person with a supply—for a fee, of course."
1. Expressions

**A/N: **It seems as though I'm not quite as ready to give this fic up than I thought. This is a continuation of _The Eight Powers_ and differs drastically in style and format and pacing. The plan so far is to update once a fortnight; sadly enough, the chapters will usually be somewhat shorter than before. I have actually written several chapters ahead. Cookies to everyone for putting up with me. :)

** Beta:** Thank you **En ar Ciel** for being wonderfully amazing. Any mistakes you see are completely her fault. (I'm joking, she's flawless.)

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><p><strong>Expressions<strong>

_Dearest Diary,_

_I think I'm in love. It was love at first sight, really; I caught sight of my love through the window of a store. Oh, it sets my heart aflutter when I think back on it now. I was just going about my day as usual; smelled a few flowers, donated to charity, helped an old lady cross the street when – there! The sight of my love had my pulse racing._

_My love is smooth and sharp_—_dazzling, really. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen._

_So, of course, I purchased the knife. And now my love and I are together and shall live happily ever after. The End._

_Hugs and kisses,  
>Your Loyal Serpent.<em>

_(P.S. I'm quite certain that our resident Ice Princess is either delusional or hallucinating. You might want to watch that.)_

**l-l-l**

"You just _had_ to go and make everything worse, didn't you?" Nagihiko asked brightly, beaming. Rima glowered at him.

"Yes, that is exactly what I meant to do. I would give _anything_ to be with a person as charming as yourself," she bit out. For once, she regretted having ever opened her mouth.

"What was it you said again?" Nagihiko pretended to ponder deeply, gazing skyward and tapping a finger against his chin. "Oh yes, 'I refuse to kiss someone that I not only don't know, but severely dislike'."

"Shut up," she said coldly.

Nagihiko pretended not to hear her. "And what was it that Sanjou said in reply to such an _obvious_ invitation?"

"Shut _up,_ Snake."

"'Then how about you two _get to know one another_ and _learn to tolerate each other_ then?' is what she said, if I recall correctly. Gee, I wonder if that has anything to do with our little half-hour-long rendezvous in this corner or that idiotic essay about each other that we must now write?" Nagihiko's tone was as politely poisonous as ever. He probably sounded just as sarcastic when he purchased bread from the market.

"I don't know, Mr. Exposition, why do you keep using rhetorical questions? Is it a symptom of your retardation?" Rima gripped her pencil so tightly her knuckles turned white. She felt an incredible urge to leap across the table and stab the boy repeatedly in his eye.

Nagihiko clucked his tongue and acted disappointed. "Now, Rima, that's terribly politically incorrect. You should be ashamed of yourself. I know _I_ am. In fact, I'm fairly certain your parents are ashamed of you, too. What a little disappoint—"

"Fujisaki."

That made him pause. Her voice had been quiet, flat, _defeated_ almost. Not to mention that this was the very first time that Rima had ever called him by name. Hell, other than the teachers, Kairi, Tadase, and occasionally Kukai, nobody _ever_ referred to him as anything other than 'Snake'. This unnerved him enough that he actually did stop talking—if only momentarily. He watched her as she stared stonily at the table instead, tilting his head to the side as he examined her.

There was a brief moment of tense silence. And then…

_Tap._

Nagihiko grinned lazily as he began to tap his pencil against the corner of the desk.

_Tap. Tap tap tap._

Rima raised her gaze to glare pointedly at the offending object. It was too bad Nagihiko obviously did not care a whit about her discomfort.

_Taptaptaptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Taptaptaptaptap._

Her gaze travelled even further up until she was fixing Nagihiko with a look that said very plainly that she was unamused. If looks could kill then hers would be repeatedly bludgeoning him with a bright, neon _BE QUIET_ sign.

_Tap. Tap. Tap—_

"_Stop it, Snake!_" she hissed through gritted teeth.

He didn't.

In fact, he sped up slightly.

_-taptap, __**taptaptaptaptap**__. Tap, tap, taptaptap,__** taptaptaptaptap**_**.**_ Tap—_

"I swear I'll _kill_ y—"

"So how come you never smile?" Nagihiko interrupted abruptly. _**Taptaptaptaptap**_**.**

"What?" Rima blinked, disconcerted.

_Tap, taptaptap,__** Taptaptaptaptap**_**.**

"Well, okay, 'never' is stretching it. Still, with that sour expression on your face all the time I would have expected you to look like a wrinkled hag by now," he said casually. _Tap, tap, taptaptap—_

"What." She repeated flatly.

—_**taptaptaptap.** Tap, tap—_

"So? Got some dark past? Murder? Intrigue? Scandal?" He leaned forward resting his chin on his palm as though he wished for nothing more than to hear what Rima had to say. His hand stopped tapping, possibly in anticipation of her answer or possibly because Nagihiko wanted to find some other way to antagonize his newfound companion.

As if Rima had decided that her glares could not become any more poisonous or deadly even if she tried, her expression went blank. Mostly, she was just confused. Was this a mind game? Nagihiko was usually a lot more direct with his attacks. This new tactic made her uncomfortable for reasons that she couldn't quite fathom. For a moment she didn't answer him.

"…How come _you_ never smile, then?" she asked quietly.

Nagihiko's expression didn't falter, although his eyebrows creased gently. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me, Snake. So? Murder, intrigue, or scandal?" she asked mockingly.

"Are you blind," Nagihiko said, not quite capable of making it sound like a question. "Of course I smile. I'm rather known for it in fact. That, and my charming wit."

Rima scoffed derisively. "Don't be stupid. What_ you_ do isn't _smiling_, it's moving muscles in your face for no apparent reason."

"R-really?" He immediately cursed himself for stuttering and showing weakness. He swore to himself that if he slipped up and stuttered again he would dye his hair pink and call himself 'spicy'. "Could've fooled me."

"I only _smile_ when I have reason to, unlike you," she said with a quiet disgust. "You are the worst kind of liar."

At that, Nagihiko's smile faltered but immediately brightened again. It was perhaps more strained than it had been previously, but even Nagihiko wasn't perfect and Rima was getting under his skin.

"Takes one to know one," he shot back hastily. It was weak, but he was off-balance and this was what resulted.

Rima looked at him levelly. "Yes," she said, "maybe it does."

**l-l-l**

_Tool of Torture,_

_I've been contemplating homicide recently. I'd be doing the world a great favour if I do convert my fantasy into reality. In fact, I suspect that the only reason that I have not yet carried out the deed is that I desire to be as disagreeable as possible._

_Although I should bear in mind that if I do cut off a snake's head, then YOU'LL be the ones to clean up and do the paperwork._

_Jail wouldn't suit me, though. Of that, there is no doubt.  
>-Mashiro<em>


	2. Special

**A/N:** This is out early, because it's my birthday! (24th of February, in case you were wondering. For most of you, it may be the 23rd or something right now.) Also, posting before the weekend is just easier for me all-around. :) Ha, I'm betting none of you saw this chapter coming. She will begin to feature more prominently as a character from now on. This was always part of the plan, but it is only now that I can begin to implement it. The next chapter will be our first spot of actual Amuto interaction. Look out for that. ;)

**Beta:** Again, a big thanks to **En ar Ciel** for putting up with my incessant questions. And generally being awesome. :)

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><p><strong>Special<strong>

This was Saaya Yamabuki.

She was a sixteen-year-old sophomore. She was in love with Tadase Hotori, aka the Prince. She was intelligent, beautiful, affluent, multi-talented, popular, admired, and congenial. She went through life without a single worry.

She was remarkably good at lying to herself.

Saaya Yamabuki had sworn to herself a long time ago that she would never turn out like her mother. It was times like this, when her mother bursts into her room at three in the morning with mascara-stained tears running down her face, that her conviction to keep that promise was reaffirmed.

"Saaya, he—he left," her mother choked out between sobs. "I don't—why? I thought we had something special! I just… am I not pretty enough? Is that it?"

Saaya merely sighed and rubbed soothing circles on her mother's back, pretending not to notice the whiff of alcohol in her mother's breath. She reached for the box of tissues that she'd learned to keep on her bedside table and offered it to her mother. The distraught woman was an ugly crier, she noted somewhat distantly. Her face scrunched up and turned blotchily red, snot running out of her nose; the whole thing was accentuated by cheap makeup that always gave out at the first sign of moisture.

"I mean—we were happy. We were happy, weren't we? He was a good man, a nice guy, and we were happy. So why did he leave me?" Her mother clung to her as though she were a lifeline.

In these moments, Saaya always thought of her as somewhat pathetic.

Her mother dated losers and expected them to be everything she dreamed of having, and was disappointed every time. She would do almost anything for the men she dated. For every new man in her life, she remade herself into whatever she thought they wanted. She changed the way she looked, the way she dressed, the way she spoke, the way she acted; heck, even the way she treated her own daughter. Her mother was by no means a stupid woman, but she would wilfully turn a blind eye whenever she found another woman's lipstick under the sofa, or smell their perfume on her boyfriends' shirts.

And despite her trying to be as perfect as she could be, they always left her. Every last one of them.

The tears and the alcohol were wearing her down now, though. Slowly, her mother's sobs receded into gentle hiccups, although her grip was still almost painfully tight.

"Saaya?" mumbled her mother.

"Yes?"

"…Do you love me?"

"Yes," she sighed.

"…Really?" asked her mother plaintively.

"Yes, really."

Her mother pushed herself up so that she could look her in the eye. "How much do you love me?"

"I love you very much."

"More than anyone else in the world?" she said hopefully.

"More than anyone else in the world," Saaya agreed. Satisfied, her mother snuggled against her sleepily.

"You're such a good girl," she murmured. "Such a good girl. I love you, I do. You know that, right?"

"I know."

"Hmm." For a moment her mother was silent. Then she asked sleepily, "Do you still have a crush on that blond boy?"

Saaya flushed. "Mum!"

"He looks like he'd be such a nice boy. Such a sweet, sweet boy."

Saaya stroked her mother's hair. "He is," she whispered softly. It didn't take long after that for her mother to fall dead asleep. Very carefully, she managed to free herself from her mother's grasp and grab a couple of tissues. After wetting the tissues in the bathroom and returning to clean some of the mascara off her mother's face, she grabbed a blanket and settled herself on the living room coach down the hall.

Despite everything, she loved her mother incredibly much.

She just really did not want to be like her.

**-lll-**

Saaya was incredibly surprised when she saw Rima waiting outside the front doors of the school on Monday afternoon. The glare she levelled at the blonde as she brushed past was almost entirely made out of habit. It was well known that Rima acted completely horrible and superior to Tadase; of course, she acted that way to everyone, but Saaya only cared about the slights she directed at Tadase and his fans.

She was several steps away when Rima spoke up with a sneer in her voice. "You're one of the _Prince's_, aren't you?"

Saaya stiffened and turned. "Yes," she said, attempting an indifferent expression and tone of voice, "I am."

"Hah." Rima huffed quietly, managing to infuriate her more than any words could have.

"What are you laughing at?" she demanded.

Rima was much more successful at feigning disinterest than Saaya was. "Do not speak to me. You are beneath me."

"_What?_" screeched Saaya indignantly.

"Is your mother a banshee?" asked Rima, sounding vaguely curious. She continued before Saaya had a chance to open her mouth again. "You think you're in love with the Prince, don't you? You probably think that he's your destined One True Love."

Saaya's mind couldn't switch tracks fast enough to ready an adequate reply.

"One day," Rima said derisively, "he'll notice you for the special diamond you are, and he'll hold your hand and date you and eventually buy you a ring and you'll have a house with a picket fence, two point five children, and a dog."

Saaya swallowed. Okay, so sometimes she dared to imagine that she was called Mrs Hotori. Most days she never got past imagining a first kiss. Thinking about it made her face flush a little.

"Well, let me tell you something; _that's never going to happen_."

"I—"

"And you know why?" Rima asked coolly. "Because you are _nothing_. I don't even know your name. What have you ever done? Why would anyone, let alone a Power, choose to associate with you? You," she said, unleashing the final blow, "will always be nothing but a fangirl in a crowd of hundreds."

Saaya took a shocked step back, eyes wide and blinking rapidly. "But…!" she began to protest, and stopped. She'd never actually spoken to the Ice Princess before, let alone had a confrontation, but she was beginning to understand why Rima had managed to become a Power where other just-as-bitchy girls failed.

Her words were designed to hurt, yes. The most horrible thing about them, though, was that they had the ring of truth.

Rima looked at her with something that could almost be mistaken as pity, if Saaya thought that she was capable of feeling that emotion. "You know, I'm telling you this for your own good. I'm practically a saint. False hope is the devil's advocate, and I'm merely ridding you of your delusions."

Saaya stared at her. "You _bitch_," she growled.

"Oh please," Rima scoffed, not even deigning to roll her eyes. "So you're not special. Get over it. Very few people are."

"I—" she said again.

Rima put up a hand, stopping Saaya from saying whatever it was she had been planning to say next. "Our conversation is now over," she announced, looking bored. "Do not let me detain you from your mediocre existence."

Saaya ground her teeth together. "You're wrong," she spat, before turning on her heel and walking away very quickly. She was _not_ fleeing, she told herself. The Princess was wrong. She was good enough and special enough to deserve Tadase Hotori. She was nice, and smart, and pretty, and gifted…

Saaya was extraordinarily good at lying to herself.

**-lll-**

Rima watched the girl walk away, only feeling marginally better for almost shattering all her hopes and dreams.

She checked her phone for the time and sighed.

Her father had either forgotten about her again or was working late. It could be quite a while before the man remembered it was his turn to ensure Rima's continued survival. He would be irritable and short-tempered when she did cross his mind, and he would hire a new driver and carer as soon as possible so that he didn't have to waste his time babysitting.

Well, she thought glumly, at least she was special.

_Hah_.


	3. Will

**A/N: **Here's the chappie, guys! It's not strictly what you would call romance, it's more plottish than anything. Hope it doesn't disappoint/turn anyone away. ^^ Ugh, I've got exams for the next fortnight so you won't be seeing me around for a little. Or, conversely, you'll be seeing me extra often. Nothing says "exams" to me like procrastination. :D

**Beta:** **En ar Ciel** deserves ALL the cookies! Any little mistakes still floating around would be completely my fault. (Or maybe ff's fault, who knows? :P)

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><p><strong>Will<strong>_  
><em>

_Hello Kitty,_

_Today I saw rubbish. Not just any rubbish, though; I saw **fresh** rubbish. Rubbish that had only just become classified as such. Only minutes ago, that rubbish would not have been rubbish at all. It would have been part of a whole. So, maybe a rose by another name actually wouldn't smell as sweet._

_What is the turning point, do you think? The point between something of use and of junk? Everything was something once._

_Oh, also, there was a dog pissing on it. That's actually why it became rubbish. It used to be a perfectly good handkerchief._

_Who knew that a slap from Cash would sting so much?_

_Looks. They deceive._

_From,  
>Your Friendly Neighbourhood Tomcat.<em>

**l-l-l**

Amu felt her face flush from anger as she stalked through the corridors. The sound of her boots thudding against the ground barely registered against the roaring in her ears. She didn't know where she was going, but as long as she was getting away from that group of self-righteous _assholes,_ then anywhere would be as welcome as an oasis in a desert.

_What right did they have?_ She thought furiously, rushing out into a courtyard. _How dare they? How dare _she_?_

Sanjou, the monster masquerading as a high school teacher, had _gone to their houses_. She'd sat down with their parents (the few that would receive her) and talked to them about their children and got information about them. And then she'd _recorded_ everything in her freaking notebook which she was then stupid enough to leave lying around the Powers. And they'd read it, and there wasn't much on anyone but her.

So they now knew that she was isolated, a stranger in her own family because she'd suddenly not known how to act around them. They'd liked her little façade at first, but then they'd stopped and she hadn't known how to be anyone else anymore. Facing them had become so _tiring_ and she'd eventually stopped speaking to them unless necessary and her life became a ruthless cycle of loneliness. The lonelier she was, the more she acted like the persona she'd created out of fear and nervousness.

And knowing all that, the Powers had torn her apart. They insulted her, rolled their eyes, acted like everything was _her_ fault. They were so self-centered they probably couldn't see beyond their own noses.

She wanted nothing more than to beat the Phoenix into submission. "_Really, Spice, it's your own fault. I never knew you were so pathetic."_ Her eye twitched and she sped up.

And Mashiro could just crawl into a hole and die as far as she was concerned. "_Honestly, how stupid can you be, Hinamori? Wait, don't answer that. I really don't want to know._" What the hell did that pampered _bitch_ know about… anything?

When she thought of Fujisaki's commentary, Amu barely refrained from punching a wall. "_Oh, you_ poor thing,_ all estranged from your family because of your own idiocy. My gods, it's a wonder you haven't done the world a favour yet and walked off a cliff._" He was just so freaking _smug_, as though he'd accomplished something by kicking her while she was vulnerable. It was her _life_ and she'd felt so _helpless_ and they'd just mocked her.

"_Leave her alone. You're just being cruel now._"

All of them, except Tadase (plus Kairi and a sleeping Ikuto, but they slipped her mind momentarily). She managed to stop and take a deep breath. Tadase had stepped up and defended her (weakly, but again she disregarded that detail). Tadase really was a prince among the other Powers. He was so gentle and kind as opposed to the others' callous attitudes (which happened to include her own, but that wasn't important). His eyes were like a candle in the deep, deep darkness that was Room 9, his hair was the sun shining after a long winter night. He was…

"…Cash."

…The touch of Spring. He was so regal and caring…

"Uh… Spice girl?"

…Hell, he brought his comatose grandmother _flowers_. He had such a great capacity for love and warmth…

"Hinamori?"

…He was every girl's white knight, their gallant rescuer, their sweetest prince…

"Hinamori!"

…He would fight a dragon for the one he loved—

"_Amu!"_

That snapped her out of her daze. She spun around and glared at the person who interrupted her slightly embarrassing daydreams. She was fairly surprised to see that it was Ikuto who stood there nonchalantly, hands in his pocket. For some strange reason, Amu kept imagining that he had a swishing cat's tail.

She crossed her arms. "What are you doing here?" she asked bluntly.

"The Demoness and Sidekick came back from that brawl or whatever and saw you were gone. So they sent me out here because I was napping," he explained easily.

Amu tilted her chin up, daring him to contradict her when she told him, "I'm not going back in there."

He shrugged. "Apparently I'm not allowed back unless you're with me."

Amu huffed and walked off but realised that he was following her. He walked more quietly than she did, which was somehow irksome. She wasn't sure exactly why, but it caused her anger and resentment to flare up again.

"Why're you following me?" she demanded.

"If both you and I never go back then I'm screwed," he said as though it were obvious. Amu's jaw clenched and she had a frighteningly strong urge to punch that apathetic expression off the boy's face.

"Oh, go and shove your head up someone's ass," she snarled, stalking off once more.

Ikuto tilted his head. "Hmm? Touchy, aren't we?"

Amu froze before she slowly turned around to look at him in disbelief. Fury ran white-hot through her veins like a drug. "Touchy," she said, testing the word with her tongue in case it could suddenly reveal another meaning.

Ikuto stared at her impassively.

"_Touchy_," she hissed once more as she advanced on Ikuto. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think that I deserve to be just a little bit _touchy_ considering that pretty much everyone I hate just went through my personal life and told me that _everything that's wrong is my own fault!_"

"Well, they're right, aren't they?" he replied casually.

Amu saw red. Before she even knew what she was doing, she'd raised her arm and brought her palm down against his cheek. Ikuto didn't even flinch, although his head had snapped to the side from the force of the blow. In fact, he looked less surprised than she was.

Her first thought after that was, _Damn, I should've punched him instead_. Her breathing was harsh, as though she'd been running rather than standing still and moving her arm. Rather than look at the guy that she'd hit, she stared at her smarting palm. She was still too angry, although the slap had actually helped to alleviate it somewhat.

"…But you know," Ikuto continued as though nothing happened, "if it _is_ your own fault, then that means that you could have the power to fix it."

Her head snapped up despite her best efforts to ignore him. "Huh?" she said intelligently.

"And if you had the _ability_ to fix things all this time and never used it, then you really don't have the right to get mad at other people for not taking your problems seriously."

"What are you _talking_ about?" Amu demanded irritably.

Ikuto looked at her. "Why do you think your mother still makes you lunch every morning?" he asked.

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

"So in your case, it's not a matter of whether or not you _can_ change anything. It's a matter of whether or not you _will_." With that, he turned and moved in the direction of Room 9, fully expecting her to catch him up sometime in the future.

She was still lost, and she struggled to comprehend what he was trying to say. _Why do you think your mother still makes you lunch every morning?_

Understanding dawned.

In hindsight it was so simple and so _obvious,_ but she'd been suffocating in isolation for as long as she could remember now, and hadn't thought to _look_ or to _think _about anything. And the cold, hard truth was that _she might not have needed to_.

Why did her mother still make her lunch?

Because she still _cared_.

And as she stared after him, it occurred to her that Ikuto was a lot more perceptive than she'd given him credit for.

**l-l-l**

_Journal Thing,_

_I'm really… confused. But, for the first time in a long time, I think I'm feeling pretty hopeful, too. It feels nice. I'm still a little scared, though. I mean, what if I try and fail? Of course, I don't trust Sanjou and Nikaido enough to believe they won't read this, so that's about as far as that train of thought is going._

_Anyway, the other Powers are still obnoxious and spoilt and selfish. I'm not so angry anymore, though. Maybe I should just accept that there are jerks in the world._

_Signed,  
>Amu Hinamori<em>


	4. Favour

**A/N: **I'm sorry for not replying to reviews recently! Honestly, I have a lot on my plate. Just know that I still treasure every single one of them and that you are all wonderful, 'kay?

**Beta:** **En ar Ciel** is fantabulous and splendorous, even if she insists otherwise. Ignore her, she's wrong. I want to give her all the love in the world. ^^ Any mistakes remaining are either my fault, or ff's fault.

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><p><strong>Favour<strong>

_Hi Evil-san,_

_Cuz the Captain probs already told you, I just wanna say that he's ttly trying to kill my life. I mean, does it have to be EVERY day? Doesn't he have other stuff to do, like play some nerdy RPGs or cosplay or something?_

_Also P.S. - btw, you guys SUCK BALLS._

_*Heart*__  
><em>Yaya<em>_

**l-l-l**

"…What—what did you say?" Kairi asked, disbelieving. The silence that followed his incredulous question could be cut with a blunt knife. In the distance, the sound of cars driving by and the shouts of children could be heard. Even a few birds sang, oblivious to the world-changing moment occurring within the walls of the school.

Picture this: a classroom on the smaller side of the scale. Within that classroom are a few tables and chairs placed in seemingly random positions. Two occupants stand facing each other in the space near the front of this classroom; one gaping in an uncharacteristic impersonation of an idiot, and the other picking at her nails disinterestedly.

Yaya rolled her eyes. "I _said_ that you're going to tutor me." It wasn't a request or even an order; it was a statement of fact.

Kairi continued to act remarkably like a fish. His mouth silently opened and closed, and his eyes were round with shock and confusion. It took him a while, but he managed to gather his wit about him. "I—_why_?" Well, okay, not _all_ his wit.

Yaya paused in her inspection of her manicure and gave him a potent look. _You_, it said, are daring to question _me_? _You_, the nerd who only managed to make School Captain because not enough people even_ know_ of you to hate you? I'll have you know that you're speaking to the girl who managed to completely overturn the useless, old cheerleading system to make way for a better team in under a month. _I_ am superior to you in every way. _You are not even worth being insulted_.

It had been a while since he'd witnessed that look. He hated to admit it, but he felt fear run through his veins for a short moment. Then he remembered that firstly, the person standing across from him was _younger _than him, and secondly, she was nothing but a spoiled brat. Any mystery she'd had had completely disappeared during the time that he'd watched the Powers bicker at each other like sulky toddlers.

He set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. "Yuiki," he said flatly, "what's your angle?"

Unreadable emotions chased each other across Yaya's face before it settled back into its original disinterested mask. "Do you ask that to, like, everyone who wants you to tutor them? Or am I just special?" she asked, sounding vaguely curious as she returned to her all-important task of admiring her fingers.

"I'm not going to tutor you unless you tell me why you've suddenly become fascinated with the academic side of life." Kairi crossed his arms stubbornly. In his mind he could hear his aunt's excited screeches about progress and opportunity and why the hell was Kairi even giving the Power a chance to take back what she said. Sometimes Kairi wondered why he respected Sanjou so much, but he always retracted that thought soon after.

Yaya rolled her eyes. "Maths makes me feel tingly inside," she said acidly. She had a moment of panic when Kairi shook his head and turned to leave. She had to make up something fast, she realised; something far enough from the truth that Kairi wouldn't have anything to use against her, and yet something that was believable.

"Look," she said, relieved when Kairi stopped. It was irritating that he didn't bother turning around, but she continued anyway. Who would've guessed that the Captain was so dramatic. "I know I'm not as smart or whatever as the other Powers," she admitted, which almost surprised Kairi more than when she'd told him he was going to be her tutor. Powers never, ever admitted to a flaw.

"That's true." The words slipped out before he even realised it, and he winced. That was unnecessary and a little cruel.

Yaya made a monumental effort not to shred him to pieces, and succeeded. Barely.

"But," she continued through gritted teeth, "I'm not stupid."

"…Okay," he said when it didn't appear as though she was going to continue. "That doesn't explain anything."

She glared at him. "I'm not done, you jerk."

Both his eyebrows shot up toward the ceiling. "This is how you treat those that you ask favours from?"

"I'm not—I… will you just, like, let me finish?"

Kairi waited.

"So I started thinking…" Yaya waited for Kairi to snort or comment on her ability to do so, but it never came. That was slightly disarming. "…Well. Like, I want to, I dunno, prove everyone wrong. I mean, yeah, people know I'm not stupid. Stupid people get _eaten_ if they try to go up against other Powers. But… everyone still thinks I'm dumber than the others because I don't use huge words and because I'm a cheerleader and because _they_ can pass tests without even trying."

Yaya stopped, waiting to hear Kairi's final verdict. Hell, most of that was even true. It just wasn't her _main_ motivation for trying to change a part of herself, for trying to be _better_. The funny thing was that she was basically inspired by Utau sneering at Amu for being pathetically passive the day before.

"_Suck it up, Cash. Don't just stand around and whine about how much your life sucks instead of, oh I don't know, actually _doing _something about it."_

And Yaya had thought about it. Yaya was as stubborn as a bull, and about as direct. She _had_ managed to wrangle captaincy of the cheerleading squad even though she was a freshman, and had basically bullied everyone into doing things her way. She'd asked herself what she most wanted, and how to get it. And if achieving her goal happened to involve swallowing her pride and asking for help—possibly the most difficult thing for a Power to do—then so be it. It was worth it.

Probably.

Proving everybody (including herself, if she was being honest) wrong was only a side-benefit, if a very attractive one.

"…Okay," said Kairi.

"I—wait, what?" It was Yaya's turn to stumble like an idiot. The look wasn't quite as odd on Yaya as it was on Kairi, but still rather strange for the infamous Sassy Witch.

"I said yes, I will tutor you," said Kairi solemnly.

"…Oh," she responded wittily.

Kairi wasn't finished. "However," he said, "I expect you to know that I'm not going to go easy on you just because you probably haven't used your brain in years. I expect you to work, and to work _diligently_. I expect you to respect me during our lessons, and to acknowledge me as your intellectual superior. I expect you to learn to focus. I expect you to make time for this endeavour, and not to complain when things become difficult. I expect for you not to be an absolute brat, but to handle yourself with more maturity than you ever thought you had. Do you still want me to tutor you?"

Yaya drew a breath. "Yes," she said confidently. And then she said, "Um".

Kairi sighed. "Yes?"

"…Do I have to, like, be nice and stuff to you outside of lessons?" she asked, nose wrinkling in distaste at the thought.

Kairi sighed even louder. "It would be appreciated, but is unnecessary," he said. He figured it would probably be too much to ask of her. She actually _might_ be able to eventually pull off studying and working and learning and trying, but being less than horrible to another human being? Kairi was much less optimistic about that.

Yaya smiled for the first time in their conversation. "Great!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. Then her smile fell. "Wait, how much is this going to cost?"

"For you, Miss Witch, I'll offer my services for free," he said rather spontaneously. Mostly because he figured his aunt would murder him if he gave the Power any reason to revert back to her former I-don't-give-a-damn state, and because he would previously have _paid_ to be in a position to make a Power suffer. And this was legal and voluntary and it was like an early birthday.

And lastly, but not least, he was curious as to the actual reason Yaya was doing this. He knew, of course, that she wouldn't ever tell him the truth. It was entertaining making her fumble for an excuse, although he was impressed at how legitimate and sincere it had sounded.

Perhaps he had enjoyed it a little too much, he reflected. It was possible that he would wind up taking all his frustration out on his newest student. Oh well.

Power over a Power. It was a nice feeling.

He liked it.


	5. Surprise

**A/N: **Ack. Sorry this is a teensy weensy bit late. It was Good Friday, so I had family commitments and stuff. In other news, I love you all. :D

**Beta:** One day I shall find you, **En ar Ciel**, and I shall hug you. For now, virtual hugs!

* * *

><p><strong>Surprise<strong>

Sanjou slammed the piece of paper down and leaned back in her chair, letting out a frustrated half-groan-half-scream mutant of a noise. Piles of unfinished papers silently mocked her from their haphazard stacks. "Ugh, I just can't take this anym—" She cut herself off abruptly when she realised that Nikaido had fallen asleep sometime in the last couple of hours. His glasses were askew and a little bit of drool pooled on some poor student's essay.

Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she checked the clock and sighed. It was just past eleven at night; they had to get through all the paperwork before the morning bell rang and they were once again faced with six hours of nothing but the glorious company of sullen teenagers. Teaching was probably a big factor in her dislike for children. She honestly couldn't understand how some of her colleagues managed to spend an entire day babysitting classes of bored and unruly teenagers and _then_ go home to babysit their own children for the night.

Sanjou yawned and stretched, grimacing when her spine cracked loudly. She had a surprise for Nikaido planned, and his being asleep was actually a small boon in her favour. Perhaps the universe didn't hate her after all.

Quietly, she got up and had to refrain from humming. It was rare that she got the chance to give someone a surprise. Or, well, a _good_ surprise at any rate. In fact, she was somewhat amazed at how much she was enjoying all this giving. Perhaps she shouldn't have been, though. After all, if there was one thing Yukari Sanjou _did_ like, it was planning things unbeknownst to the people that the said plan involved.

That was probably the only reason she hadn't lost her mind yet.

**-lll-**

At precisely twelve o'clock midnight (well, according to the clock that hung on the wall of Sanjou's living room which was actually three minutes fast), Nikaido felt someone shake him awake. He blinked his eyes open and couldn't help it when they immediately focused on the object that had been placed in front of him.

His brow furrowed and his head tilted to the side. The thought crossed his mind that he might still be dreaming, since his brain failed to come up with any logical conclusion that could explain the object's presence. He rubbed his eyes in the faint hope that something would change, but nope. It was still there.

'It' was a cupcake. It was a _fancy_ cupcake, with a single lit candle protruding from it like the horn of a delicious but perplexing unicorn.

"Surprise…?" said Sanjou, putting on a hesitant smile and letting her statement trail off into a question. Whatever reaction she'd been hoping for, she was pretty sure this wasn't it.

Nikaido looked at her expectant expression and then turned back to the cupcake. He had no idea what he was supposed to say, but made a valiant attempt nonetheless. "Um. Thank you?" he tried. He guessed from the way that her gaze flattened that it hadn't been the right thing to say. "Uh, what's the occasion?" Wisely, he decided not to voice his fears that Sanjou had gone insane or was trying to poison him. (Or both.)

(It was probably both.)

The faintest hint of irritation took over her face at the fact that her surprise hadn't been better received. "Nikaido. Really?" At his confused look she sighed and shook her head. "It's the eighteenth of September."

For a moment he simply stared at her before it clicked. "Oh!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, _oh_," Sanjou repeated a little testily.

"It's my _birthday_!" he said like a man who had suddenly realised that oh, fire's _warm_.

"Oh, is it? I honestly hadn't noticed." Sanjou knew that she was probably on the verge of overreacting, but she was _peeved_. She'd bought him a very expensive cupcake and had resisted the temptation of eating it all day, and she'd had a sucker of a time trying to stick the candle in without ruining all the icing and decorative chocolate sauce and little edible pearls. She didn't just randomly do things for anybody, after all, and then Nikaido had the nerve not to appreciate her gesture properly. It wasn't like she could afford much on a teacher's salary.

Well, okay, she probably could've gotten an actual cake, but she figured that with just the two of them there, and with her 'nothing after nine' diet…

Stupid universe. It let her think that it didn't hate her and then BAM! Sucker-punched in the face.

"Sanjou," Nikaido sighed, half fond and half exasperated.

"What? Eat the damn cupcake." Sanjou wasn't pouting, and she would swear it to her grave. Pouting would be immature. Which she was not in the least.

"Hey, look—"

"I mean, obviously your birthday just isn't something important to you, which renders my frivolous little gift completely moot anyway." She tried to shrug it off, but her movements were just a little too aggressive to be completely nonchalant.

Nikaido grinned, more touched than anything else that Sanjou was letting herself become somewhat riled up because he hadn't reacted to her gift. If he didn't know any better, he might say that she was almost _hurt_. "I—can I call you Yukari?"

"What?" Sanjou blinked, startled out of her sulkiness. Then, to her abject horror, she began to blush. "I—well—I guess, I mean… um, okay?" she stammered.

"Yukari," Nikaido said with an embarrassing amount of sincerity. "Thank you."

"Uh—it—" she coughed, regaining some control over herself. Her dignity was now shattered beyond repair, though. "Ahem. You're welcome." Her face was still rather pink, but they both chose to ignore that.

"It's just that it's been a few years since I've celebrated…" he started to explain, before Sanjou interrupted.

"Yadda, yadda, yadda, you can tell me the sob story of your life after you've blown out the candle. That's an expensive cupcake to ruin with wax," she said. The small, rare smile on her face softened her words, however.

"Right," he said, quickly turning back to the cupcake.

"Make a wish!" she reminded him just as he sucked in a breath. His gaze met hers, and he grinned his normal goofy grin.

For some reason, her heart fluttered. She briefly wondered if she had some odd kind of arrhythmia or something before dismissing it as unimportant.

"Wish made," he murmured happily, smiling at her in the candlelight.

At precisely thirteen minutes and forty eight seconds past midnight (according to Sanjou's clock), the candle blew out.


	6. Change

**A/N:** Oh, ye gads. I am _incredibly_ sorry about the whole "randomly disappearing for a bajillion years" thing. This chapter was giving me difficulties, and school and life caught up with me (again). Actually, they're still sorta beating me to a pulp so **I can't promise any regular updates (or updates at all) for a while. None of my WIP stories are abandoned, though. I will finish them if it takes me ten years **(like it hasn't already ashrgsgd sob).

Thank you for the reviews that you left even though the author is completely hopeless!

**Beta: **This chapter is unbeta'ed. Also horribly rushed. But I figured I might as well announce that I didn't die. Or something.

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><p><strong>Change<strong>

_Dear Satan,_

_I did something stupid today. And now I honestly cannot believe what the hell my life has turned into. Also, rain sucks._

_I still think you're a completely useless tool that the teachers are using to humiliate and torture us—and I know you're reading this, **Sanjou**. But you know what? You totally can't call me out for disrespecting you in here, so._

_Keep reading if you dare, morons._

**l-l-l**

Utau dimly noted that Katsu's face turned a very interesting shade of beetroot whenever she got angry. One would think that Katsu would have gorwn immune by now, having been her manager for two years—and wasn't that just the most depressing thought ever?

"—a thousand times, you stupid girl, this is not negotiable!"

Utau took a deep breath, hoping to calm herself down before she did something that she would probably regret. (The immediate satisfaction of punching Katsu in the face would be _not worth it_, she told herself firmly.)

"I refuse to dress like a slut and dance to a song about sex that I didn't even sing," she said with a forced patience. Oh, how she missed the days when she had been allowed to record her own songs, hear her own voice sometimes when she strolled through a supermarket. It had almost been enough to make her content, if not happy. And then they took even that away.

"The way I see it, you have two options," said Katsu. Her voice was dangerously low and shaking with anger and Utau knew that she'd pushed too much. She would lose. "Either you do whatever the hell I tell you to, or you quit. Simple as that, really."

This was the point where Utau would usually grit her teeth and throw Katsu out of the apartment and Katsu would mock her for being so dependent on her 'daddy'. Today something stopped her. Like a spring coiled so tightly it snapped, all her bottled fury and pride and indignation welled up and screamed in one voice for her to just _screw it_.

_Quit_._ It's not worth it._

"I quit," she said aloud. Then, noticing the dizzying freedom singing in her veins upon those two words, she said it again. Louder. "_I quit_."

"Wh—you can't just…" Katsu spluttered, looking like she'd just been hit over the head with a frying pan.

_You can_.

"I can," breathed Utau. "I mean, it's not like we ever negotiated a contract, because then I'd have a say in things. It was always just blackmail and threats. And I quit. Because I don't give a flying fuck anymore."

"But—do you _know_ what we'll do to _him_ if you've gone?! I didn't think you were so selfish!" Katsu screeched wildly. Her manager knew that this was Not Good. This was _very_ Not Good. She was supposed to control the pop star, not drive her away. _Oh god_, Katsu thought in a panic, _the Director will have my head on a platter_.

Everything was spinning out of her control. This has never happened before. The idol had always fought back, but she'd always submitted in the end.

"He's been telling me to quit for years," said Utau, beginning to gather her belongings. She had a nice suitcase somewhere that she used to pack for her tours. It would do nicely. "He'll be fine." _It hurts him when I do this._

"You've got nowhere else to go!" she said, bringing Utau up short. It only stopped her for a moment, however, and then she resumed feverishly gathering her belongings.

"I don't care," Utau declared. It felt exhilarating to say those words.

Katsu gaped uselessly like a fish before she smiled triumphantly. "You'll never see your mommy dearest again!"

Utau almost growled. "I don't _care_," she spat. It wasn't like they ever saw each other all that much anymore, and those few meetings were always tainted by the entire situation hovering over them.

Katsu followed her as she went into her bedroom and dug through her closet. "You'll be back," she said. "A spoiled brat like you wouldn't last five minutes in the real world."

Utau found it incredibly easy to ignore her, letting the comments roll off her back like water off a duck. Katsu no longer had any power over her and she felt like she could do _anything_ right now. She hefted out her suitcase, ignoring Katsu's increasingly frantic protests. It was plain black although she recalled Katsu had wanted her to get something eye-catchingly purple.

Utau wasn't sure how much money she had in her wallet, but she would have to make sure to withdraw as much money as possible from the few credit cards that Katsu had permitted her before they could be cancelled. She could sell some of her clothes too, she supposed as she threw things haphazardly into the suitcase. Some of the designer pieces would fetch a good price even second-hand and she was pretty sure that any piece of clothing of hers in particular would garner quite a sum, creepy as that was.

Wishing she could lock the still-ranting Katsu in her closet, she grabbed a backpack and threw in some of her toiletries and CDs. She wanted to leave as few of her things behind as possible, impractical as it may be. (She's a bit possessive. Some people would tell you that she was more than just 'a bit' possessive but they would then have a sharp heel grind itself on their foot and would be unable to tell anyone anything at all past their pained groans.)

Utau surveyed the room one more time before dashing out the door and down the stairs—she was flying on adrenalin and didn't have the patience to wait for the elevator. Her suitcase was heavy and kept catching against her ankle as she fought with it down seven flights of stairs (the heel of her boots echoing loudly with every step) but she reached the bottom just as Katsu emerged from the elevator.

Too late, because Utau was already striding through the lobby and out the automatic glass doors and—

_Free_. Shouldering her backpack properly and getting a firm grip on her suitcase she walked briskly away from the cursed building. Katsu was left spewing profanities in her wake.

Utau had no idea where she was going or what she would do now, but for that moment it didn't matter at all. She felt lighter than air; as though nothing and nobody could stop her now.

Everything would be okay.

**-lll-**

Everything was not okay.

It had started pouring half an hour after Utau had finally claimed her freedom. She had searched for shelter and found it against the front doors of an apartment complex. The wind periodically blew sprays of water against her already wet and shivering form, even as she tried to huddle behind her suitcase for extra protection.

She really, really had no idea what to do.

In short, she felt pathetic. It was a new experience for her. She didn't like it.

Somehow, freedom wasn't turning out to be as, well, _freeing_ as she'd thought it to be.

Stupid freedom.


	7. Routine

**A/N:** So I went on what I shall term a "post-exams creative high" and wrote three chapters yesterday. I decided to post this today and tentatively go back to the "one chapter every two weeks" schedule. I'll make sure to warn everyone when I run out of chapters this time! ^^

**Since this fic isn't in strict chronological order, I'm putting up a timeline sort of thing on my profile in case anybody gets too confused. **Right now it's mostly okay, but later on I'll probably jump a little back and forth.

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><p><strong>Routine<strong>

_Dear Sanjou-sensei,_

_What's the most difficult choice you've ever been given?_

_And how do you know whether it's the right one?_

_Just some thoughts,  
><em>_Tadase Hotori_

**l-l-l**

"Hey, Nana," Tadase greeted softly as he slipped into a chair and reached for her hand. "How're you feeling today?"

He waited as though he expected her to suddenly blink her eyes open and answer him. _How would you feel if you were stuck in a hospital bed all day? These people treat me like an invalid!_

He quirked a small grin at her, the same way he did every other time he visited. "You need to get better, Nana. The people here are doing their best."

There was almost a ritual significance to this. The familiarity of the routine comforted him.

He imagined that a brief look of annoyance would flash over her face before she glanced sharply at him, eyes knowing. _Enough about me. How's my favourite grandson doing?_

His grin transformed into a real smile. _I'm your only grandson, Nana_, he would think. And the spell would end, and his heart would hurt a little with the realisation that his grandmother was, in reality, as still as death on the hospital bed.

He would answer the question in his head anyway.

"Well, school's kinda strange right now," he began, sinking into that relaxed feeling he always had when he talked to his grandmother. "I know I've mentioned the other Powers to you before."

The heart monitor beeped at him. The first few weeks that his grandmother had been here he'd found them annoying. Their presence became soothing after a while; Nana was still alive, they announced to the world. Her heart still pulsed.

"Well, apparently the teachers think that it's really important that they learn to get along and be decent human beings," he said wryly. "And I got dragged into it, too."

He stopped and blinked. Usually the Nana in his head would have no problem smiling in sympathy for him but he got the impression that this time she wanted to frown disapprovingly at him. He grew a little irritated at not even being able to control figments of his own imagination.

Tadase ploughed ahead regardless. "Personally, I think the teachers in charge just want to teach us humility by forcing us to do degrading things."

Okay, what was _with_ his imagination today? He really shouldn't be feeling his gut clench guiltily in reaction to Imaginary-Nana's disappointment. Why would she be disappointed anyway? It's not as though he had the same attitude problems and general laziness that all the other Powers possessed.

"Well, this means that I'm not attending my normal classes. Which means I'll begin to fall behind. And—well. You know what that means, Nana," he sighed. There. Imaginary-Nana's face softened.

He fiddled with the fabric of his pants, lulled again by the rhythmic sound of the monitor and the patter of rain outside; so faint he had to strain to hear it at all.

"Mom would go crazy," he murmured into the almost-silence. Then he said, self-consciously, "Crazi_er_."

The almost-silence returned, more oppressive than before. Tadase looked down in his lap, biting his lip. He could almost hear the anxious _What's wrong?_ that he imagined she would say if she ever caught sight of him obviously being bothered by something.

"I—" Tadase's mouth opened and closed a couple of times; the words he wanted to say were lodged in his throat. He swallowed and tried again.

"I overheard Mom and Dad. Arguing." He looked at his grandmother's face then. Not Imaginary-Nana—real Nana. She looked pale and drawn and fragile, and so, so old. None of her stern spark and wisdom was discernable on her face.

"About you."

He forced the words out. If Nana could hear him at all (and he had to shut out the memories of her doctors who all explained sympathetically that _the longer a person stays in a coma, the less likely it is that they will wake up—and if they do, it's even likelier that they'll never fully recover from the brain damage_)…

If Nana could hear him at all then she deserved to know.

His voice wobbled a little and cracked. "They were arguing about… hospital fees, and the length of time it's been, and—and whether you would have wanted us to—to _let go_ and _move on_ or…!"

Tadase had to take a moment to compose himself. Then he forced himself to continue. "Or," he said in a whisper, "let you wither away in a half-life until you die anyway."

Suddenly he wondered whether the beep of the heart monitor was the sound of hope or whether it was the sound of Nana being forced to stay as her body and mind decayed, tethered to a bed for the rest of her non-existence.

Tadase stared at the wrinkled, calloused hand clasped in his and couldn't summon enough strength to even whisper.

_I don't know_, he thought desperately, closing his eyes. _I need you here, Nana, but._

_I just don't know._


	8. Shelter

**A/N:** So here's the new chapter! I'm a bit nervous about it actually. But, whatever, tell me what you think! (Or just lurk, as is your right. :P) The next chapter will come out in a fortnight. It's written, so there should be no problem. :)

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><p><strong>Shelter<strong>

_Minion,_

_The last thing in the world I expected to happen… happened. It was so unexpected that it wasn't even on my "last things I expect to happen" list because I didn't even think it was a possibility._

_This is gonna screw things up. I can just tell._

_From,  
>Your friendly neighbourhood Phoenix<em>

**l-l-l**

Kukai cursed under his breath as he jogged through the rain, a bag of what he called 'groceries' clutched in his hand. It contained a box of cereal, several boxes of instant noodles, and yet another box of pretzels.

Blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to keep the water out of his eyes, Kukai slowed down to a walk. It wasn't like he could get any wetter, after all. _Or colder_, he thought as a blast of icy wind bit into him. The weather really shouldn't be this cold yet; it was still the middle of autumn, for crying out loud.

He caught sight of something yellow from the corner of his eye. He would've kept going but something about it sparked a sense of recognition, prompting him to frown and scan the area. The rain made it hard to see but he craned his neck and backed up a few steps and—

There. Somebody was huddled behind a suitcase in the shadow of a building across the road. He squinted. Then all of a sudden his eyes almost bugged out of their sockets.

Oh, he thought dumbly, freezing on the spot. That hadn't been yellow. _That_ had been the unmistakable blonde of one annoying pop star's obnoxious pigtails.

What was the Flaming Star doing _there_? Kukai wondered, examining her as closely as he could when he was being battered with raindrops. The next gust of wind quickly reminded him where he was and of the important fact that whatever the girl (whom he didn't even like, he reminded himself) was doing here, it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

He resolutely walked home.

**-lll-**

Kukai snarled at himself. What was _wrong_ with him?

He turned off the television, an old clunky thing that barely worked, in frustration. He felt weirdly restless, unable to focus on what would normally be a very engrossing game of football. To his consternation he'd found himself randomly pacing, running a hand through his hair and feeling vaguely unsatisfied.

His mind kept flashing back to the image of the Star curled miserably on the front steps of the building a few streets away. Which was stupid, because he'd already decided that it was none of his business.

She probably had a tantrum and ran away without any kind of planning. She probably ran back to her five-star hotel, or wherever it was she lived, the moment she realised that her hair would be ruined and was now crying about how unfair the world was.

Except… he was loath to admit it, but Utau Hoshina was one of the fiercest people he'd ever met. And she _never_ ran. Whatever she was doing there, she was probably bull-headed enough to try and stubborn it out through the rain.

Kukai remembered how badly he'd started shivering when he got back to his apartment after having only been out there for fifteen minutes. And that was—he glanced at the clock—an hour ago.

He twitched, stood indecisively still for a moment, and sighed.

"Shit," he muttered, even as he stood and started searching for an umbrella.

**-lll-**

He was just doing this to find out why she was there, he reminded himself. He wasn't doing this out of some stupid and misguided sense of sympathy or something. He wasn't _weak_ like that. The bottom half of his pants had already soaked through, despite the protection of his _totally ultra cool_ rainbow umbrella. (He hadn't been able to find the red one that he normally used.)

She probably wasn't even there anymore, because what kind of an idiot would sit in the rain on a day that was reminiscent of the Ice Age? She'd probably gone home or at least gone _away_ and he would have let himself be soaked again for absolutely no reason.

...Of course the idiot was still there. He sighed inwardly. Still in the exact same position that he'd found her in forty minutes ago.

Maybe she was dead, a small part of him thought darkly. Maybe she had died and nobody noticed because they were all too busy getting out of the rain themselves and hadn't cared enough to check. Maybe she died minutes after you left her; you might have just let somebody _die_—

_Shut up_, he snapped at himself. Nevertheless, he crossed the road as quickly as possible, ignoring the horn blared at him by a moron of a driver. He had a _rainbow umbrella_, how could you even miss that?

In a couple of moments he stood before her—or, well, a little below her since she was at the top of a couple of steps. The only reason he even knew she was alive was the fact that her body was wracked with violent shivers. Her face was buried in her arms so she hadn't seen him, giving him one more chance to walk away before she was any the wiser.

It was a really lousy place to take shelter, Kukai noticed. While there was a bit of an overhanging roof, it was basically useless against the slant of rain and did all of nothing against the wind.

He eyed her warily, making sure to remind himself one again that he was just here to satisfy his own curiosity. And then he would leave.

Right.

He licked his lips and then blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "How long have you been out here?" he asked. How long had she been there before he'd even walked by?

Her head shot up, shock giving away to a glare in an instant. It lacked its usual energy, though Kukai had to admire the fact that her face wasn't absolutely frozen.

"C-come to gloat?" she asked, her tone more defeated than spiteful.

Kukai stared at her. "You could die like that," he said.

"Shut up," she replied, letting her head drop back onto her arms as she tried to draw herself into an even tighter ball.

He pursed his lips and waged a fierce and bloody war with himself. (He would never admit that for all his indecision, in the end he knew what he was going to do. He had made the decision probably from the moment he first saw her across the road, vulnerable and alone.)

"You can't just die here being pathetic and feeling sorry for yourself," he said bluntly.

"Fuck off," she said oh-so-gratefully, her curse muffled by her sleeves.

Kukai considered his options and nodded to himself. He firmly pressed the handle of his umbrella into one of her hands. Confused, she instinctively took hold of it even as Kukai wrapped his now free hand around her other wrist, the cold clamminess of which worried him. He took the suitcase and then forcibly dragged it and Utau down the steps and in the direction of his apartment.

After several incredulous moments, Utau recovered enough to hiss, "Are you _kidnapping_ me?!" at him. She made no move to free herself, however, automatically holding the umbrella.

"Like I said, Hoshina, I'm not gonna let you die like a stray dog," he said, an edge in his voice.

Her voice rose as much as it could in the state that she was in. "I don't want your p-pity," she bit out through clenched teeth.

"I'm not doing this for _you_," he was quick to clarify, even though, yeah, he kind of was. "I'm doing this because if one Power died as pathetically as that, then how do you think it would make the rest of us look?"

She snorted, not buying a word of it. "Bullshit," she said flatly. Kukai cursed the fact that she wasn't a stereotypical dumb blonde teen pop star. By all rights she should be a vegetable.

"It would also be bad karma or something, right?" Kukai added as an afterthought.

She stayed mulishly silent.

**-lll-**

The moment Kukai ushered Utau through his apartment door (it had been hell getting the frozen girl and her luggage up three flights of stairs), he pointed to his bathroom and said, "Go have a long, hot shower or your toes will fall off."

He pushed the suitcase in with her when, miracle of miracles, she wordlessly moved to comply.

As soon as the door closed Kukai collapsed on the couch. He was soaked again and was shivering a little as well, but it was nothing he couldn't deal with. It seemed that no matter what the world threw at him he was destined to remain unscathed, health-wise. He smiled a little bitterly at that.

He heard the sound of the shower turning on and rubbed his face.

Utau Hoshina was in his apartment. What the hell he was supposed to do now?


	9. Brainstorm

**A/N: **Here it is! I have not yet written the next chapter, but I will still try to update in two weeks. No promises this time 'round, though. I'm really, really busy and I'm not sure if I'll be ablse to find both the time and inspiration to write. Also, I know it may seem like there's a lot of Saaya going around right now, but I just needed to set this up. She shouldn't be quite so prevalent later on in the story.

**Addendum:** For some reason, I don't think this chapter was showing up yesterday? I'm reuploading it to see if that works. Fingers crossed!

* * *

><p><strong>Brainstorm<strong>

Saaya was excited. Ever since her run-in with the Ice Princess the day before, she had been in a terrible funk. In some ways this was fortunate because whenever she got in that mood she would spend a lot of her time thinking. And with the amount of time she devoted to thinking, she was struck by the most brilliant idea.

She was a _genius_.

The excitement and feeling of accomplishment served to blow whatever doubts about herself she'd been starting to have right out of the water.

Everyone would see. She was brilliant and talented and perfect for Tadase. She would show them. She would show them _all_.

"Um, Yamabuki-senpai?" a voice said, interrupting her from her rather maniacal thoughts. Saaya's focus snapped back to the present, which happened to include a short, chestnut haired boy with big grey eyes and even bigger glasses.

She cleared her throat, not bothering to feel self-conscious. "Ah. Suzuki-kun," she said brightly. The boy, one freshman by the name of Seiichiro Suzuki, continued to stare at her in trepidation.

"You… wanted to speak to me?" he said carefully. Saaya had all but dragged him away from the music room regardless of his loud protests. And then she just smiled triumphantly at him until her eyes took on a faraway look. He was a little concerned for his well-being.

"Ah yes," she said exuberantly. "Would you like to earn money and popularity, Suzuki-kun?"

Seiichiro eyed her warily. "What's the catch?" he asked.

"It's not a 'catch', but I'll need your help to _get_ the money and popularity," Saaya said breezily.

He regarded her for a moment. "Alright, let's hear it."

**-lll-**

The idea went something like this.

Economy, as far as Saaya knew, revolved around supply and demand. Where there was a demand, eventually you would find some smart person with a supply—for a fee, of course.

And Saaya had realised that there was a huge, unfulfilled desire at their school; a potential goldmine. Almost everyone in the school wanted desperately to see the Powers again; and the few that weren't rabid fans of one Power or another were insanely curious as to how they interacted, given their explicit hatred of each other.

Saaya had stumbled across this brainwave while pining for Tadase. If _she_ would pay to re-immerse herself in the comforting cloud of being a fangirl, then how many others would cough up for the same reason?

She had her demand.

From there she had to work out how she could provide a supply, and how best to capitalise on it. It was probably illegal, but it wasn't like she was hurting anyone. To the contrary, this would probably help the entire school. Teachers wouldn't have any more riots on their hands, after all, for which they would be eternally grateful for.

She _could_ stalk them and take pictures of the Powers to sell to the student body but that felt… inefficient. Even though it was practically traditional.

No. Others would get the same idea, and her market would be ruined.

What she _needed_ was…

**-lll-**

"You want me to install security cameras into Room 9?!" he yelled. Sayaa immediately clasped a hand over his mouth and made a shushing noise, eyes darting around franticly.

"Shh," she repeated, just in case. "I know that it's genius, and it's kinda weird that no one else thought of it, but you don't have to be so _loud_."

She released him when he made a muffled noise against the palm of her hand. He tried not to stare at her like she was crazy, but he didn't think it was working.

Seiichiro cleared his throat. "Right. So… you want to film the Powers without their permission and then sell the videos to the rest of the school."

"Exactly." Saaya smiled at him sunnily.

"And what do you think will happen _when they find out_?!" he shrieked, seemingly unable to keep his voice from rising.

She shrugged, unconcerned. "They'll be in that room with each other. They wouldn't do anything stupid or personal or anything if the rest of them are there."

Seiichiro stared at her. "What, you think the Snake will thank you and shake your hand or something once he knows?"

A muscle in Saaya's cheek twitched. "Look," she said with a tone of finality, "either you're in or you're not. Nobody else has to know you helped, if that's what you're worried about—you'll just get a cut of the money."

He bit his lip, contemplating the offer. "…How much of a cut?"

"Ten percent," she said.

He laughed outright. "You want me to install the cameras and edit all the footage and manage all the technical stuff for ten percent? I want at least eighty."

It took some arguing, but eventually they settled on a fifty-fifty even split.

**-lll-**

On Tuesday afternoon, they gathered the supplies.

Early Wednesday morning, they planted the cameras in the room and tested their equipment.

Wednesday afternoon, they argued over whether or not they should include the Witch's sudden demand for tutoring in the truncated video they were working on. Saaya voted yes (drama sells, Suzuki-kun! The great Sassy Witch asks for help. They'll eat this up) and Seiichiro voted no (she's not with the other Powers, Yamabuki-senpai. I'm not comfortable with this—this is _private_).

In the end, Seiichiro won. He was the one who actually knew how to edit the footage, after all.

Saaya conceded before narrowing her eyes and smiling like a shark. "Teach me?" she asked saccharinely.

He sighed. It wasn't like he was going to have much of a choice.


End file.
